Steven Dunne - Deity

Yvette wavered but before she could refuse to invite them in, Len Poole appeared behind her in his bright blue tracksuit.

‘Inspector. I thought that was your voice. Goodness, you’ve been in the wars. Any news?’ He looked across at Terri and gave her a lingering up and down. Brook hoped it was the unconscious habit of the ex-pathologist.

‘There’s a press conference shortly and my guess is it will make the TV news.’

Len nodded. ‘Better get back and watch it then.’ He scratched his head in consternation. ‘It’s a difficult time. I just came round to meet Yvette. Let her know we’re there for her if she needs support,’ he added, answering a question that hadn’t been asked. ‘We need to pull together when something like this happens.’

Brook just smiled.

‘Well, I’d best be off. Nice to meet you, Yvette,’ said Len, turning to leave.

‘You too, Len.’ Yvette smiled. ‘Thank Alice for thinking of me. I’ll be in touch.’

‘What do you need to check, Inspector?’ she said when Len had gone.

‘Just something one of my underlings needs to verify. Upstairs, Constable. Chop, chop,’ said Brook to his daughter. ‘First on the left.’

‘Right away, sir,’ replied Terri, making a show of pulling on the latex gloves Brook had given her, before heading up the stairs.

Yvette followed her progress. ‘She’s very young,’ she said when Terri was out of sight. ‘I suppose that’s a sign of my age.’

‘Start worrying when you’re as old as I am,’ answered Brook. He looked beyond her to the interior. ‘Any danger of a cup of coffee while I’m waiting?’

Yvette handed Brook a cup and darted her eyes anxiously round the room. She gestured him to a seat.

‘Inspector Brook, you’ve been so kind.’ She laughed nervously. ‘I can’t keep calling you that.’ She cocked her head at Brook.

‘Damen,’ he answered reluctantly.

‘Damen. Interesting name.’

‘It’s German for Ladies,’ he said. ‘Don’t ask.’

She smiled fulsomely at him. ‘I didn’t know men like you existed any more. You know, all the men I’ve ever met, even the boys like Wilson — they look at me in a certain way, but not you. You look at me and see a person, not a MILF.’

Brook smiled and took a sip of coffee.

‘You know what I’m trying to say.’

The conversation was heading where Brook hoped it wouldn’t. ‘Yvette — Eve ,’ he corrected himself when she prepared to protest. ‘I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through.’

‘Can’t you? I think you can. I can see it in your eyes.’

Brook took another sip of coffee. Perhaps he was expected to give clarification, something he’d rather avoid. He kept silent, but when Yvette said nothing and wouldn’t drop her gaze, he realised she wouldn’t be denied.

‘You’re not married, are you?’ she said.

‘Not any more.’

‘How do you cope with the loneliness?’ Brook stared back without expression. ‘I’m a very lonely woman, Damen. I have been all my life. I never knew my father, and my mother died when I was young. I was put in care until I was old enough to live my own life.’

‘I’m sorry, I had no idea,’ Brook lied.

She smiled sadly. ‘I can’t be alone, Damen. I won’t be. Since Rusty-’

A door closed on the floor above and Terri descended to the hall. ‘All done, sir.’ She pulled off her gloves with a satisfying snap.

Yvette and Brook followed Terri to the front door.

‘Thanks for the coffee,’ said Brook.

‘My pleasure, Damen.’

As Brook followed Terri outside, Yvette allowed her hand to brush softly against his.

‘See you soon,’ she said.

‘I reckon those two know each other, Dad — before today, I mean,’ said Terri, when they were on the A52.

Brook smiled across at her. ‘Chester.’

‘Chester?’

‘Yvette Thomson’s only lived in Derby for six months — she’s from North Wales and once lived in Chester. Len went to Chester with Mrs Kennedy for the weekend, the night of the party. It could be a coincidence. Len said he didn’t know her.’

‘He’s lying,’ said Terri. ‘But why pretend they don’t know each other when they do?’

‘Why does anybody lie?’ said Brook, avoiding her eye. ‘Something to hide from the past.’

Terri nodded. ‘Maybe it’s something to do with that envelope.’

Brook squirrelled an admiring glance her way. ‘You’re good at this, aren’t you?’

She grinned with pleasure. ‘Must be genetic. What do you think was in it?’

‘I don’t know but I don’t think he had it when he left so he must have taken great pains to hide it.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I couldn’t find it when Yvette was making coffee.’

Terri narrowed her eyes at her father. ‘Isn’t it illegal to search a house without a warrant?’

‘Absolutely. It’s on a par with impersonating a police officer.’

Terri laughed. ‘ Yvette didn’t seem to catch on, Damen .’

‘Let’s hope she doesn’t remember you,’ said Brook, ignoring his daughter’s insinuating tone.

But Terri wasn’t to be deflected. ‘Are you and her. .?’ She tilted her head suggestively.

‘Certainly not,’ replied Brook. ‘She’s part of an investigation. Her son is missing and she’s very vulnerable. That would be opportunism of the worst kind.’

‘But if she wasn’t involved in a case?’ Brook concentrated on the road. ‘Taking the fifth on that one, Damen ? Well, she’s certainly pretty.’ Brook wasn’t to be tempted into an answer. ‘And far too attractive for that dirty old Len. Did you see the way he looked me over?’

‘I did. But he may just be Slab Happy.’

‘Pardon?’

‘He used to be a pathologist. It’s a habit in people who work with the dead. They assess people’s height and weight. Just in case. They don’t know they’re doing it.’

Terri pulled a face. ‘Gruesome.’

‘What about Russell? Did you get a feel for him?’

‘Sort of. There’s a poster missing. Do you know what it was?’

‘No. Miss Thomson couldn’t remember.’

‘Pity. And without books he’s a tough read but, no books,’ she raised an eyebrow, ‘that’s significant in itself.’

‘How?’

‘He’s more of a plotter than a thinker.’

‘Plotter?’

‘Director would be a better word. Probably where he gets his love of films.’

‘Go on.’

‘Look, this may be completely offbeam. He may just be a film buff and his tastes may be completely random. .’

‘But?’

‘But if you were to assume his character from the posters in his room, there are one or two pointers. The Blair Witch Project , for instance. Did you know the makers built its reputation by using the internet? They created a website that treated the disappearance of three students investigating reports of a supernatural entity, as a real event.’ Brook looked at her. ‘I know. Spooky, eh?’

‘And people got hooked on the mystery like they are with Deity?’

‘Exactly.’

‘What happened to the students in the end?’

‘It was a bit vague but I think they died.’

Brook nodded. ‘Similar to Picnic at Hanging Rock . Anything else?’

‘Have you seen Badlands ?’

‘Actually I have. I saw it with your mother a long time ago. I can’t remember much about it.’

‘It’s about a mindless teenage killer played by Martin Sheen. He’s on the run and heading for the Canadian border and safety.’

‘Go on,’ said Brook, trying to remember.

‘He’s getting away — just a few miles from the border — but suddenly he stops and shoots out his tyres.’